


Idle Hands

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam encourages a little exploration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Hands

Sam's halfway through brushing his teeth when a warm arm slides round his waist.

He looks up at the mirror. But Lucifer's already distracted, mouth against the side of his neck, teeth scraping there in lazy hunger.

Sam drags the toothbrush out of his mouth.

"Lucifer."

"Sam." The arm round his waist tightens.

"No," Sam says.

"Sam -"

"I said no."

Lucifer huffs irritated frustration against the skin of his throat. Then he straightens and catches Sam's eyes in the mirror.

Sam doesn't react to the look, but he dumps the toothbrush back in the cup.

"We've talked about this. I'm human, there are only so many times you can indulge your new-found ability to have orgasms. Unless you want to go have them with someone else."

Lucifer's fierce, angry glare tells Sam exactly what he thinks of that suggestion.

That does kind of give Sam an idea though.

He shifts round, back against the cold, hard weight of the sink for just long enough to catch Lucifer's waist and turn them around. He presses the devil back into the porcelain and Lucifer lets Sam move him, lets him crush the smirk he's wearing with his own mouth. Hard, rough kisses that threaten to smash Sam's plans to pieces.

He breaks away, turns Lucifer around so he's the one facing the mirror. And Sam's still surprised when Lucifer lets him push him around, all powerful fallen Archangel that he is. But then it's not like Sam could ever _make_ him do anything he didn't want to do.

There's a questioning tilt to Lucifer's expression when Sam pulls the trailing edge of his shirt up and slides his hand underneath. He unsnaps the button on Lucifer's jeans, drags the zipper open, fingers sliding in to catch the waistband, and then tug it down past Lucifer's hipbones. He shoves shirt and t-shirt out of the way and pushes his hand inside, finds the heavy weight of Lucifer's erection and eases it free. The deep, rushing exhale is familiar in a way that tells Sam maybe he's taught the devil lust far too well. It makes him wonder what Lucifer's taught him in return.

But he reaches down with his other hand, finds the warm curve of Lucifer's wrist and twines their fingers together, before lifting them and curling them around the flushed length of his cock. A tangle of warmth and fingers and need.

Sam feels the vibration from the sound Lucifer makes through his back. Feels the way he shifts, just slightly, to lean back into him. Sam takes the extra weight and turns his face into the untidy mess of Lucifer's hair.

"You're going to learn how to take care of yourself," Sam tells him.

He moves their hands together, slow, steady slides from base to tip.

Lucifer makes a soft, indistinct noise when Sam's fingers untangle and then slide away, leaving him touching himself. He slows, stops, uncertain.

"Keep going," Sam tells him. Though there's more than a little command there. Maybe a lot of it.

But Lucifer exhales and does as he's told.

The slow, awkward pull of his own hand is hotter than it has any right to be.

Sam reaches up and pulls Lucifer's shirt down his arms and off, lets it fall to the bathroom floor. Then slides his hands up under the t-shirt, fingers spread open on warm skin. He pushes the cloth all the way up, then drags it free and tosses it away. Having Lucifer's bare waist under his hands makes arousal tighten its way through him, before settling low and heavy. Sam has to dig his fingers in and steady himself against the curve of Lucifer's ass, where his jeans still hang.

There's a bottle of lotion on the edge of the sink, and Sam's reaching for it before he's even though about it. Upending it onto his palm.

"Give me your hand, I can make it better, I promise."

Lucifer doesn't question, he just lets Sam takes his hand, lets him twine his fingers through it, making his palm and his fingers slippery. The low noise of curiosity is soft and breathy and Sam likes it.

"Touch yourself again."

Sam lets go, wraps his slippery hand back round Lucifer's waist. He watches Lucifer curl his fingers back round his cock, watches it slip-slide up through them, and Sam can feel the long, trembling groan Lucifer's gives through his chest.

Fuck, there are no words for that. He digs his teeth into the meat of Lucifer's shoulder and murmurs encouragement. He watches every new, wet slide. The way Lucifer's grip adjusts itself on every pull. The way the strokes stutter and catch when Sam's fingers move on his waist, when he breathes into the shell of Lucifer's ear.

Sam had been absolutely certain he wasn't going to get hard again. He's still a little sore, still too sensitive. But - God - he hadn't even considered what Lucifer would look like, like this. That he'd make quiet noises, frustration and surprise and those deep little sounds of greedy pleasure and Sam's hands twitch and tighten and he's murmuring encouragement against the roughness of Lucifer's cheek. Soft, messy words that leave the skin warm and a growl building in Lucifer's chest.

He can feel the steady movement of Lucifer's arm against his skin. The slow tense and flex that Sam wants to catch hold of. It's not as awkward, every stroke is a wet shivery pull now, that meet the rough, twitching pushes of Lucifer's hips.

"Fuck, yes." Sam presses in without meaning to, one quick shove of his erection against the warmth of denim. But it doesn't ease the ache, just makes it sharp and immediate.

Lucifer's rhythm falters, stops briefly, breath loud and rough in the close chill of the bathroom

Sam's struck, suddenly, by the urge to see him, to really see him. He slides a hand up the back of Lucifer's neck, listens to the long, low noise of pleasure when his fingers drag through his hair. Then he twists and tightens them and tugs Lucifer's head up.

Lucifer grunts when he finds himself staring at his own reflection.

"Like this," Sam says, voice shot to hell. All shake and breath and desperation. He's pressed himself back into the hard curve of Lucifer's body, hips moving just a little. "I want to see you."

Lucifer groans and his next few strokes are quick and brutal. They send a knife of lust through Sam.

"Fuck, yes, like that. Just like that." Sam tugs at his hair again, gets a low grunt that probably doesn't intend to be so approving. He wants to do it again but he can't stop watching. Doesn't know whether to look at Lucifer's face or his sliding hand. Sam's breathless and too hot, skin tight and shivery, his own cock is so hard it's a solid line of demand and noise. His fingers are digging wherever they find skin, fighting the urge to shove his jeans open and down and press in. Because he needs to watch this, he has to watch this.

He swallows a moan when he catches Lucifer's eyes and finds them hard and dark and gone.

"I want to watch you come." The words come out thick and broken, and Lucifer growls something rough and mangled which barely sounds like words.

Sam digs his fingers in, presses as close as he can, breath hot against the hard line of Lucifer's jaw.

"Lucifer." Sam twists his fingers in the devil's hair, tight enough to be all brightness and pain if he was anything close to human.

There's a ragged, gasping breath and Lucifer comes in long, stilted pulls, across the sink and the back of his fingers. One long groan tearing out of him.

"Fuck," Sam murmurs, then repeats it, over and over, breathless and wrecked. Watching Lucifer exhale messily and work himself through the shivery edges of pleasure. Sam's helpless to do anything but slide into the curve of Lucifer's ass and groan out something needy.

Until Lucifer moves, twists round and catches him, shoves him into the sink. Hand tugging his jeans open and down and there's a slick hand curling round his cock, one tight, too-hot slide after another and Sam's eyes roll back and he's gasping and coming. Shuddering out a breath and moaning like he might die.

He does nothing but breathe and take Lucifer's weight for a minute.

"I think later, I will make you perform for my pleasure," Lucifer says quietly and Sam groans agreement into the warmth of his mouth.


End file.
